


blizzard

by jewishtk



Category: Chicago Med, One Chicago
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Christmas, Hypothermia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 16:22:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewishtk/pseuds/jewishtk
Summary: Tap, tap, tap.It was just a tree branch. Just a branch being knocked against the door due to the violent wind. Just a branch… just a branch… just a branch. No amount of telling himself that it was “just a branch” could stop the tremor in his hands, or the rapid beating of his heart, or the fear that coursed through him. It couldn’t stop the millions of scenarios blossoming in his head, all ending with his untimely death at the hands of an axe wielding murderer.





	blizzard

The wind howled outside, whipping up a flurry of snow, and the lights flickered ominously overhead, causing his grip to tighten on the flashlight, not caring when the ridges dug into his palms. Or maybe he just didn’t notice, too preoccupied with the terrifying thought of being stranded in the middle of the woods with no power until the blizzard subsided. At Mother Nature’s mercy.

Tap, tap, tap.

It was just a tree branch. Just a branch being knocked against the door due to the violent wind. Just a branch… just a branch… just a branch. No amount of telling himself that it was “just a branch” could stop the tremor in his hands, or the rapid beating of his heart, or the fear that coursed through him. It couldn’t stop the millions of scenarios blossoming in his head, all ending with his untimely death at the hands of an axe wielding murderer.

The tapping escalated to a dull thump and he was out of his chair before the third thump had sounded. Will was certain it was just his anxiety playing tricks on him, but it didn’t make him any less afraid. A lump formed in his throat and he switched the flashlight from his left hand to his right, holding it out in front of him as a makeshift weapon.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

A chill passed over him and goosebumps popped up along his arms as he inched across the wooden floor, wincing when an unsettling creak sounded from the floorboards. Just an anxiety, just a branch, just anxiety, just a branch, just anxiety, just a branch – his fingers closed around the cold, brass doorknob and he hesitated.

Why didn’t he take Natalie up on her beach resort trip? The possibility of sun poison seemed far more desirable than the possibility of death.

“On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…” he whispered cheerfully to himself. Will breathed out slowly before turning the knob and yanking the door open, ready to hit whatever was on the other side but stopped short when he saw the shaking, snow covered lump. “Well, they didn’t give me an axe wielding murderer.”

His eyes scanned the snowy landscape, searching for a threat, but if there was one then he couldn’t see it because he was in the worst white out in history. Still, the human lump on the ground made him nervous because he was in the middle of nowhere, so how did this stranger find his cabin? Judging by the coat he wore and the shoes on his feet, he didn’t seem the type to willing venture into an area with no cell reception.

It took the man coughing for Will to finally set aside his flashlight and gather his shaking form in his arms. Almost immediately the man grabbed desperately at his shirt, pressing his face into his chest, and it took every ounce of self control he had to not drop him as snow seeped through his sweater. Will kicked the door shut and moved through the cabin towards the dying fire, the flames just barely clinging to life.

That won’t do, he’ll have to get the fire roaring again for the man’s sake. But he needed to get his wet clothing off first.

“Can you tell me your name?” Will kept his eyes trained on the man’s bright pink face while his fingers fumbled o undo the buttons and zippers that kept his coat secure. “My name is Will Halstead,” he carefully maneuvered his body so he could pull his coat off, “and I’m a doctor. I’m going to help you, okay?”

No response. Not even an acknowledgement that he had been heard.

“I’ll be right back.” It seemed silly to explain everything he was doing, or to inform the barely conscious man that he would be back, but on the off chance he could hear him he didn’t want to leave him to think he had been abandon.

Will sprinted into the kitchen and yanked the nearest drawer open, nearly pulling it off its track in his desperation, and started rifling through its contents. “Where are they?” He slammed the drawer shut and pulled the next one open, throwing the contents onto the content and dropping a few items on the ground.

Did the cabin not have scissors?

Just as he posed the question, he saw them. Will plucked them from the drawer and hurried back to the dying fire and, for all he knew, dying patient. “I’m back,” he announced, voice barely above a whisper as he settled back on the floor and began to cut away at the man’s shirt until there was nothing left except his bare chest. His hairy, sweaty chest. “Keep it together,” he whispered because now was not the time to get distracted by his patient.

Patient.

This man was his patient and he shouldn’t be ogling him, he should be helping him – he was helping him.

A groan passed the man’s lips and Will stopped what he was doing. “Can you hear me?”

Another groan, though he couldn’t tell if it was pain induced or the man confirming he could hear Will. “Can you tell me your name?”

Silence.

It was stupid to expect an answer, but still… Will shook his head and pulled the man’s shoes and socks off, tossing them somewhere behind him without a second thought. “Are you alone?” He needed to know in case there were other people trapped outside in the blizzard in similar, or worse, condition but he was also scared to hear an affirmative answer. “Just… groan once for yes, twice for no,” he hesitated before adding, “or whatever noise you can make.”

Silence, again.

Maybe the man couldn’t hear him. Maybe the groan was just pain induced.

Will inched backward across the floor, pulling the man’s pants with him until they were completely off, and he threw them over his shoulder to join the shoes and socks. He hesitantly pressed his hand to the fabric of the man’s boxers, relieved to find they didn’t have to be removed. It would be awkward enough for the man to wake up in his current state of undress.

“No.”

If he hadn’t seen the man’s lips barely move he would have thought he had imagined the answer because it was so quiet, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “No one else was with you?” He repeated, trying not to get his hopes too high but at the same time he didn’t want to lead a one man rescue mission in the current weather condition. Hell, if he went out in the current conditions he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to make his way back.

“No,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“Okay… I’m going to grab you some blankets and get the fire going again, but all you need to do is rest.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @transhalstead where i take requests for rhodestead (and a variety of other chicago med/pd ships!)


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